


he's got the curse of curves

by mayfriend



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: ...and doesn't get it, Allison Hears A Rumor, Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gangbang, Genderfuck, Ghosts, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, I cannot stress enough how much incest there's gonna be, If I missed any tags/warnings please let me know!, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Touching, Number Five | The Boy Doesn't Time Travel, Poor Klaus, Prompt Fill, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Incest, Strangulation, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayfriend/pseuds/mayfriend
Summary: Klaus is seventeen years old, and will freely admit to having made several poor choices, most of them related to drug use. He’s a teen addict, can’t remember losing his virginity and once decided to run down a flight of stairs wearing his mother’s heels, which led to a broken jaw and eight weeks of enforced silence.However, he thinks ignoring that dead witch might top them all.Fill for a prompt fromUmbrella Kink





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the lyrics of the strangely well-fitting 'The Curse of Curves' by Cute Is What We Aim For.
> 
> This is the first smut fic I've actually published, so please let me know what works and what doesn't - if you are not interested in reading incest, slash, underage (although they're 17, so your mileage may vary) and dubious/non-consent, the back button is your friend!

Klaus is seventeen years old, and will freely admit to having made several poor choices, most of them related to drug use. He’s a teen addict, can’t remember losing his virginity and once decided to run down a flight of stairs wearing his mother’s heels, which led to a broken jaw and eight weeks of enforced silence.

However, he thinks ignoring that dead witch might top them all.

In his defence, he’s been ignoring ghosts for as long as he can remember with no worse consequences than them cranking up the screaming and wailing, which is little more than white noise to him now after a lifetime of it. And he wasn’t exactly all there last night after he’d gone a little too long without a hit and the shades began to reappear. And she didn’t _look_ very witchy - she wore sensible shoes, and a frilly blouse covered in blood, and wore her hair in a severe bun. What she looked like was a pissed off accountant. What she sounded like was a lunatic.

“You need to warn my coven, my sisters,” she told him, over and over, “there’s a witch hunter in the city. He killed me, and he’ll kill them. Boy, listen to me!”

“Lady,” Stupid, too-sober Klaus had said to her as he scrambled around his room, searching for a stash of poppers that Pogo hadn’t confiscated, “there’s no such thing as witches, and no such thing as witch hunters. They’re not real. Now leave me alone.”

He rips the head off Eddie the Unicorn, and crows in victory. He’s swallowing two pills dry in seconds, and lets out a sigh of relief as the phantoms in his room start blinking out of existence.

“I’ll show you _real-_ ” the woman says, her face as dark as a thundercloud, before she too flickers into nothingness. Klaus laughs at the empty space where she once stood, and climbs back into bed before Dad checks the cameras and sees him absent.

When he wakes up, Klaus feels weird. Off. He rubs at his eyes, and crawls out of bed, only to fall forward onto his hands and knees, unbalanced by a strange weight on his chest that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep.

He looks down, and screams.

* * *

“A witch, you say?”

“That’s what she told me.” Klaus says, unable to meet Sir Reginald’s eyes, barefoot and still wearing his suddenly ill-fitting pyjamas after being summoned to his father’s office. Ben had been in the hallway as he passed, and had stared at him, open mouthed.

“Well,” Dad said, “you will simply have to summon her again and demand more information about witches. If there are supernatural beings amongst us, it is imperative that the Academy is aware of them and whether they are a threat to the world, Number Four.”

“Isn’t there a slightly more… _pressing_ matter?” Klaus hisses, trying to cross his arms only to be hampered by his newly acquired assets. Sir Reginald looks him up and down, his expression entirely inscrutable.

“You do not appear to be in any present danger,” he decreed after a moment, “you will simply have to adapt to these new circumstances. I see no reason why you cannot continue your training as usual.”

“No- no _reason-”_ Klaus gaped at his father, whose icy gaze made him choke on the words in his throat.

“That is what I said,” Sir Reginald snaps. “I will have your mother examine you, but your priority should be interrogating this witch.”

Klaus shivers, and nods, eyes downcast.

* * *

“Now, don’t be shy,” Mom trills as she encourages Klaus to lay down on the examination bed in the infirmary, “I’ve been doing this for your sisters for several years now, it shouldn’t take a moment! Feet in the stirrups please, there’s a good boy!”

Klaus knows she’s trying to put him at ease, but the comparison to Vanya and Allison makes a wave of embarrassment and humiliation wash over him. Haltingly, he does as directed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he parts his legs.

Mom isn’t lying - she’s very fast and very thorough in her examination, although he almost starts crying when she inserts the wand into the new hole he woke up with. It’s covered in lube, already warmed, and doesn’t hurt so much as feels _thick_ and _long_ and completely out of place. She’s ultra-sounding an opening that Klaus shouldn’t have, that Klaus _didn’t_ have yesterday, and it’s only the knowledge that his dick and balls are still with him that’s keeping him from a full-on breakdown.

He wonders what Ben has said to the others. Klaus has missed breakfast, so they’ll know something’s wrong. He knows he won’t be able to keep this a secret, not if it doesn’t wear off in the next few minutes, but he’s incapable of coming up with how they’ll react.

Slowly, the warmth and length of the wand recedes until it leaves his body with a _pop!_ that has heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m happy to say you’re in perfect health, Klaus!” Mom says with a smile, before helping him sit up. “Now, I’m going to check your breasts for lumps, tell me right away if you feel any discomfort.”

She doesn’t give him time to react, or to pull away. Her firm, probing fingers are swift and sure as they cup his chest and rub around the base of his breasts, squeezing and poking. Klaus’ protests are caught in his throat, and he sits completely still and silent until she proclaims him healthy there as well. The hospital gown he wears is scratchy and thin, and to his humiliation his nipples are clearly visible and as hard as rocks when he looks down.

“Such a brave boy,” Mom praises him, and offers him a lollipop. Klaus takes one and unwraps it with trembling fingers.

* * *

None of Klaus’ shorts fit. They’re all fitted for a body that he doesn’t have anymore. They sit strangely on his thicker hips, and won’t button up properly around his curvy waist and buttocks. He winces in pain when he tries to pull them up, the seam that runs across the crotch digging between the lips of his new genitalia. He has a similar problem with his shirt; it was designed for a flat chested boy, when Klaus is anything but flat now - he struggles to do up the top buttons, and the eyelet gaps between them reveal mounds of pale flesh.

“Sweetheart,” Mom says when she peeks round the bedroom door to find him still struggling, “I think you might need to borrow another uniform.”

Klaus says nothing, but knows she’s right. He feels like his face is on fire when she walks in, closing the door behind her, and begins swiftly unbuttoning his shirt. He tries, and fails, not to sigh in relief as he’s released from the restrictive pressure. Soon, he’s standing before her in nothing but his underwear, as has happened many times in the past, but for the first time he feels compelled to cover his significantly more prominent chest. He thanks whatever deity is listening that his boxers still fit, even if they’re a little tighter over his rear than he’s used to. “Just wait right here, darling,” Mom tells him, before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Klaus stands there, frozen. He’s never felt so vulnerable in his life; not even when his jaw was wired shut for weeks on end and his siblings made a joke of pretending he was agreeing with everything they said because he couldn’t speak against it (Hey, I bet Klaus wants to pay for the donuts! Yeah, yeah, I think he does-).

The room is empty, at least to his drugged brain, but Klaus knows the witch is probably still there. Waiting. Watching. But he can’t see her, can’t hear her, can’t talk to her, so until he’s sober he’s stuck like this. Fuck.

Mom bustles back in, the familiar blue academy uniform in her hands. But when she lays it out on the bed, he sees that it’s not any uniform he’s ever worn before - instead of shorts, there’s a pleated skirt like Vanya and Allison wear. The shirt is now a fitted blouse, specially cut to accommodate a bust.

Klaus is shaking his head weakly before Mom even turns around. “I can’t,” he says to Mom, “I can’t wear that, I can’t-”

Mom’s brow furrows, like she’s figuring out a particularly difficult math problem. “But sweetheart, I thought you liked wearing skirts?”

Klaus opens his mouth again, and closes it. Of course he’s confusing Mom, who is not a human being no matter how much she looks like one. She is a collection of ones and zeroes, who has logged that Klaus steals Allison’s dresses and borrows Vanya’s tights. She can’t understand the difference between Klaus in his own body choosing to wear flouncy, feminine skirts, and a Klaus that suddenly looks like this against his will wearing female-coded clothing. She simply doesn’t possess the capacity for nuance to understand.

“Yeah,” he says, a lump in his throat, “Yeah, thanks Mom.”

She beams at him as he steps into the skirt, and his stomach feels like it’s full of inter-dimensional monsters, just like Ben’s.

* * *

Klaus doesn’t have long to psych himself up for seeing his siblings, or more accurately his siblings seeing him, which is probably for the best.

As soon as he’s changed, Mom’s ushering him towards the classroom from where he can hear Pogo lecturing, physics as it always is on Tuesday mornings. “Now, do you have your books?” She asks, and Klaus raises them up in answer, silently cursing that he hadn’t left them behind to give himself a chance to forestall the inevitable. “Good boy!”

And then she’s knocking on the door. Klaus’ legs feel like jelly as it swings open, revealing the same seven desks in the same places in the same room they’ve always been, his six brothers and sisters turning towards the doorway.

Allison surreptitiously pinches herself under her desk. Vanya just stares, her eyes as round as tennis balls. Five is the only one of his brothers who manages to keep his mouth shut, but his eyes are wide and skittering across Klaus’ body as if cataloging every change.

“Master Klaus,” Pogo says, breaking the suffocating silence that’s descended over the classroom, “take your seat. We were just reviewing last week’s work on magnetic poles.”

With no other option presenting itself (although Klaus would really, really like to disappear into the floor right now), he does. His siblings’ eyes follow him as he slouches into his chair, hyper-aware that he’s smack bang in the middle of the room. It’s always been this way - four is, after all, the median of one-two-three-five-six-seven - and he’s never minded before, but for the first time he desperately, achingly wishes he was number Seven. Vanya sits at the back of the room, with a row to herself - nobody can look at her unless they swivel round in their seats, and they’re all too well broken by now to risk that.

Pogo starts talking again. Klaus doesn’t listen, doesn’t even look. He concentrates on his hands; they’re one of the only parts of him that he recognises anymore.

* * *

Klaus takes forever packing up his things, half hoping that the others will get bored of lying in wait after a few minutes and go gossip amongst themselves, giving him a chance to retreat to his bedroom and blessed solitude.

Shockingly, it didn’t work. As soon as he sets foot outside the classroom, there’s a hand latching around his upper arm. He doesn’t even have time to react, let alone pull away, before he’s being pulled through space in a flash of blue light.

He lands in a sprawl on a bed - Five’s, he figures, by the chalk equations on the walls - surrounded on all sides by his brothers and sisters. “Nine out of ten for kidnapping, guys,” Klaus croaks, “It’d be ten, but you haven’t exactly got me far enough away for this to be considered a secondary location.”

Diego, who’s standing at the foot of the bed, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Klaus swallows. “What h-happened, man? Or, er-”

“Hey, fuck you!” Klaus snaps, his neck burning at the insinuation. Or at the way Diego’s eyes have dipped firmly below his face, and aren’t moving.

“Seriously, Klaus,” Ben says, tilting his head to the side, “what did happen? Is this a new power?”

“Absolutely _not,”_ Klaus spits with perhaps more venom than was strictly necessary. He’s already got one godawful power; even though he knows this is down to the witch, the very thought of gaining another fills him with fresh fear and fury. “This bitchy ghost- I may have implied that I didn’t believe her when she said she was a witch and her coven was in danger from a witch hunter or whatever. Turns out…” he vaguely gestures at his own body, “she fucking was.”

“Witches are a thing now?” Vanya says quietly to Allison, who shrugs.

“Yes, witches are a 'thing' now.” Klaus answers bitterly, his youngest sibling looking a little frightened by his harsh answer. Five, whose hand is still on his arm, tightens his grip in warning. Klaus’ head snaps round to look at his brother, who looks evenly back at him, his eyes dark.

“So what… you’re stuck like this?” Luther says, a strange undertone in his voice that Klaus can’t quite place.

“No!” Klaus denies, looking wildly around at his siblings, all of whom look skeptical. “Well, kind of, but temporarily! I am _temporarily_ stuck like this, but I’ll get clean-” A disbelieving snort from Five, “-and summon the fucking witch and _make_ her undo it.”

Luther looks unconvinced. “What did Dad say?”

“Why don’t you ask him, _Number One?”_ Klaus snaps, not wanting to admit to him - to any of them - that Dad didn’t seem to care at all about what had happened to him.

“Hey!” Allison predictably rose to her favourite brother’s defense, “He’s only trying to help, sounds to me like you got yourself in this mess in the first place!”

“Well you _would_ say that, wouldn’t you? Fuck this shit, I’m out.” Klaus snarls, the panicking animal in his chest reaching breaking point as he tears his arm away from Five and climbs off the bed, overbalancing slightly in the process like he had that morning, and only just catching himself on Vanya’s shoulder. Unfortunately, Vanya hadn’t been expecting it, and they tumbled to the floor together.

“That is it,” Luther growled, and that was all the warning Klaus had before he was picked up like a sack of potatoes and thrown back onto Five’s bed so hard the mattress springs creaked in protest. “Allison?”

Klaus’ eyes widened, and his hand shot out toward his sister in panic as he scrambled up onto his knees. “No-”

 _“I heard a rumour,”_ his sister trilled, _“that you can't move unless we say so.”_

Without any other avenue to pursue, Klaus hissed at his sister. She smiled smugly back at him, something sharp and dangerous in her grin.

“Put your hand down,” Diego told him with a sigh, and Klaus did so quickly, rather than be left with one hand out in a quasi-salute for hours on end (which was a real possibility, if Allison was feeling particularly vindictive). “God, Klaus, why’d you have to be such a brat?”

“I’m _not,”_ Klaus snapped, and to his horror he felt tears rising.

“You seem pretty bratty to me,” Five chimed in, “what, you gonna cry now you haven’t got your own way?”

Klaus would have wiped at his eyes to stop the tears from falling, but his arms stay paralyzed at his sides. “Shut up, Five,” is all he can say, hating how his voice wobbles, how he can feel the prickle of a sob climbing up the back of his throat.

“Poor ickle Klaus,” Five teases, undaunted, reaching out and pinching Klaus’ cheek for a split second. Klaus can’t even pull away. Then he turns, to face the others, “Do you think this is part of the spell, or just him being a baby?”

“He does like to be the centre of attention,” Luther says with a shrug.

Klaus looks tearfully at Ben and Diego, the siblings he’s closest with, for a defence. Ben’s cheeks flush, but he says nothing, apparently fascinated with his shoes. Diego, however, steps up to the challenge, although in a different way than Klaus intended. “So what if he does?” Diego says, as another tear slips silently down Klaus’ cheek, “He’s still our brother, and this witch has still gotta be dealt with.”

“She’s dead, Diego,” Allison reminds him, “it’s not like we can do anything else to her. Plus, Klaus needs to get sober to actually talk to her, and that’s-” she shoots him a vaguely apologetic look, “-not very likely to happen.”

“Hey!” He squawks, and goes entirely ignored.

“So he’s gonna stay like this?” Vanya asks, looking at Klaus’ body shyly out of the corner of her eye at first, before growing bolder when nobody says anything about it and taking it in head on.

“Probably,” Five says absently, “the odds are against him. He’s got to get clean to summon this witch, already unlikely, then somehow convince a dead witch to do what he wants when she’s - y’know, _dead_ \- and that’s assuming it’s even reversible.”

Klaus felt very far away all of a sudden, listening to Five lay it out like that.

It was temporary. It had to be. It _had_ to be.

“I- I can’t-” Klaus stutters, feeling like Diego must when the words won’t come out, “I can’t- can’t-”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Allison says, before turning it into an order: _“I heard a rumour you were breathing normally.”_

“I can’t stay like this,” he chokes out as his lungs settle back into their normal rhythm, “I can’t.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Five snaps at him, “She could’ve cursed you in so many ways- you could be a frog right now. Or a proper girl. Or you could have a pig’s tail, or bunny ears. This is _nothing.”_

“Easy for you to say,” Klaus tells him, wishing he could reach out and punch his brother in his smug face. “I bet it’d be a different story if it were you.”

“But it’s not me, is it?” Five counters, “It’s _you_. It’d never be me because unlike you, I’m smart enough not to get myself into these kinds of messes.”

“Fuck you,” Klaus snarls, “Allison, let me go, I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m obviously not going to let you go just to start a fight,” Allison says, before turning to Five. “You’re being mean, Five. It’s not Klaus’ fault he’s… the way he is.”

For a moment, Klaus thinks he’s misheard.

There are so many ways that sentence could’ve ended. _It’s not Klaus’ fault he’s cursed. It’s not Klaus’ fault he can see the dead. It’s not Klaus’ fault you’re an asshole._ But… _it’s not Klaus’ fault he’s the way he is._

“What?” He says, voice giving hint of the turmoil raging within him.

“Well, you’re…” Allison waves her hand towards him, like that explains everything. “You’re a lot, Klaus. And we love you, but sometimes it’s just… _exhausting_. Especially since you started using. It’s like looking after a big kid, and on missions it’s like…”

“Like you’re a civilian.” Luther says solemnly, finishing for her, “A liability.”

Klaus’ head swims. He looks at Ben, Diego, Vanya. “Do you agree?” His voice comes out no louder than a whisper.

“I don’t go on missions,” Vanya says quietly, twisting her hands together, “but… for the rest of it… yeah. Yeah. I hate it when you’re high Klaus, it’s like you’re somebody else. And you’re high _all the time_ now. I don’t like that person. I really don’t.”

There’s something wet on Klaus’ cheeks.

“Diego?” He says.

Two meets his eyes, gives him a strangled smile. “It’s hard, Klaus. I try to be… I try to be a good brother. But you make it difficult sometimes. A lot. A-a-and whenever we go out on missions… I keep on getting distracted. Looking for you. Worried you’re gonna get yourself hurt, get yourself killed. You’re a mess, man. You have been for a while. This is just-” he scrubs a hand over his face, like he’s exhausted, like Klaus is _exhausting._ “-the most recent thing in a long line.”

Klaus doesn’t ask Ben. Diego’s words make him feel like his chest is being cracked open; he doesn’t think he could take any more. But Ben clears his throat anyway. “I love you, Klaus,” his closest brother says, clearly picking his words with care, which makes it hurt all the more because Klaus knows he means it: “but… I don’t think I like you anymore.”

“What do you want me to say?” He asks miserably, watching teardrops splash onto Five’s bed sheets, feeling strangely detached. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that? What the fuck do you want from me?”

They exchange looks, loaded. There used to be a time Klaus would be included in those glances, would understand what they’re not saying. But now he feels like a foreigner, cut off from everything he’s ever known and tossed into a new world where nobody speaks his language.

“Fucking _say something!”_ he yells when the silence stretches on, “Fucking _talk_ to me! Or am I not even worth that anymore? You’re all such fucking hypocrites-”

“I suggest you stop talking,” Luther says firmly, and Klaus grits his teeth, resisting the _I’m Number One_ voice they’ve all been conditioned to roll over for without question when used, even Diego.

That Luther’s breaking it out now, over this, is worrying. But more than that, it’s infuriating.

“What the fuck are you going to do about it?” Klaus snarls.

Luther’s eyes harden. “What you deserve.”

Klaus almost sobs, but manages to twist it into a laugh instead. “The Umbrella Academy,” he spits, “god, you actually believe in it. In _him._ You think you’re judge, jury and executioner, don’t you? What crime have I committed? It doesn’t really matter, Dad’ll still pat you on the head, good little attack dog that you are-”

There a hand around his neck, crushing, crushing. Uselessly, Klaus claws at Luther’s arm, and around him the others are shouting - _stop, no, Luther- it’s just Klaus- you’ll hurt him- he’s not worth it-_

_Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it-_

A long, long moment later, Klaus is released and crumples back onto Five’s bed, Allison’s rumour leaving him horizontal and unable to move. He itches to touch his neck, feel for the damage - he knows it’s bad, by the way Vanya’s huddled in the corner. By the way when he tries to speak pain shoots through his throat. Luther’s by the door, and Diego’s punching him ineffectively in the chest to keep him there - what’s actually anchoring him to the spot is Allison, who’s murmuring sweet nothings into their eldest brother’s ear. Ben blocks most of his vision after that, fingers fluttering over his neck like he can’t quite bear to touch, and Klaus lets himself get distracted by it, by the concern so rarely directed at him anymore.

God, he needs a hit.

“Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?” Five hisses from somewhere out of his field of vision. “You always make everything worse.”

 _I know,_ Klaus would say, if he could. _I know, I know, I know._ But it hurts even to swallow right now, and he knows words are out completely, so it looks like Five’ll get his wish.

Five is evidently not willing to risk such, and in a movement so swift and unexpected that Klaus wouldn’t have expected it in a million years, reaches over and shoves three fingers into Klaus’ mouth when he goes to take a deep breath in. On instinct, Klaus makes a sound of shock that leaves him cringing, and Five rolls his eyes.

“Five?” Vanya’s voice is small, like her, but doesn’t shake. “What are you doing?”

Klaus doesn’t dare kick up a fuss; he isn’t sure if he could, with his limbs leadened by Allison’s words and his throat already bruising and his mouth plugged by Five’s digits.

“Taking away the temptation,” he answers, completely composed. “If we’re going to have an actual conversation, it should be without his inane interruptions.”

Ben’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think he could talk if he wanted to right now, Five.”

Klaus thinks Five is very aware of that. He also thinks Five doesn’t care, because Five’s fingers are moving slightly now, even the most minute of movements sending signals of confusion and terror to Klaus’ brain. He’s rubbing little circles on the inside of Klaus’ cheek, his fingers tasting like salt. “That’s the _point_ , yes,” Five says, in that way of his that implies everybody but him is an idiot. Ben’s ears go a little pink, and he drops it.

“-I didn’t- I didn’t hurt him _badly,_ did I?” Luther says, his big puppy dog eyes making Klaus feel a squirm of guilt in his stomach despite him knowing that he was the victim here.

Five looks down at him, faux quizzical, before moving his hand from side to side, dragging the rest of Klaus’ face along with it so it looks like he’s shaking his head. “No, see? He’s fine.”

 _“Five.”_ Luther’s censure has no bite to it though, and his lips are already twitching a little. Eyes darting around the room, Klaus sees that Five’s little puppet act has made everybody relax a touch. Diego shakes his head fondly, before walking over and sitting heavily on the bed next to Klaus’ immobile body.

“What are our next steps?” He asks, and it takes Klaus a moment to realize that he’s asking Five more than anyone else. He’d ask when Five became their unofficial leader, but he thinks it’s been coming on for a while now - Five easily has the best control over his power, is good at problem solving, and has an air of command that Luther has never been able to learn despite his best efforts. But it’s never been openly admitted before now - Klaus would groan, if it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch, because of _course_ it would be when Klaus is at his most vulnerable that Five finally gets his long awaited promotion.

Five hums, contemplative, his eyes darting around the room before settling on one of his many incomprehensible equations. “Priority one is to figure out this whole witch situation. I’ve never heard about any of the ghosts having any influence over the living before, let alone retaining magical powers. Right?” He crooks his fingers inside Klaus’ mouth after a moment passes, and Klaus realizes he’s being addressed.

“C’mon, Klaus,” Allison says with a groan, “we’re trying to fix your mess. Help us out here.”

Klaus would like to remind her that she’s stolen his ability to move - even to give a thumbs up or thumbs down - and Five and Luther both coordinated to rob him of his voice, but to be able to remind her of this he would need to have a form of communication still available to him. He tries to nod, but Five uses his two free fingers to hold his head still through a tight grip on his chin probably thinking Klaus is trying to dislodge his fingers. Klaus lets out a frustrated grunt, and then another at the rush of pain that accompanied the noise.

The only thing he can still move on purpose are his eyes, so he purposefully blinks several times in succession. It takes them a minute, and it’s actually Vanya who realizes as the others start complaining about him being difficult again: “Morse code,” she says, “He’s using morse code.”

Vanya is now his favourite. Screw you, Ben.

 _Y-E-S,_ Klaus blinks over and over until they get the message.

“Oh shit- Klaus, you can use your hands to say yes or no.” Allison blurts once she realizes, and Diego lets out a disbelieving snort of laughter as understanding dawns on the others.

“I can’t believe we forgot about that,” he says, and in reply Klaus shoots him the bird. It only makes him laugh harder, the traitor. Klaus had very much not forgotten about it. To be cut off from control of his own body was something that Allison had used against him several times before, and each time was just as disconcerting as the last. His only comfort was that they’d all been at her mercy at one time or another; even Luther hadn’t been spared.

“Okay,” Five said, bringing them all back on track, “so this ghost is clearly _something_ and still has power after dying, so it makes sense her living counterparts are also going to be powerful, if not considerably more so. We’ll need to be smart about this, gather intel, find protections against their magic if there are any, track them down - I guess the whole operation will probably take a few months.”

_MONTHS?!_

Klaus tried to exclaim, but only ended up screwing up his eyes in pain, his hands flying to his neck to try and lessen the pain. He thinks even through Five’s fingers, his dismay came through.

“Priority two,” Five said loudly, so that he could command the room’s attention once more, “is getting Klaus’ body back. At the end of the day, this isn’t as vital as priority one and the Academy can do without him.”

If any of the others notice how Klaus’ eyes are shining again, they don’t say anything. He reaches up to tug on Five’s sleeve, tries to communicate with his hands just how _not okay_ he is with that - and gets a light slap to his cheek for his trouble. It was very light - probably won’t even go red - but it shocks him, and he lifts a hand to his cheek nonetheless, feeling like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

“He doesn’t seem all that happy about the plan,” Ben says, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“What he wants isn’t relevant,” Five counters, before snarling when Klaus tries to bite his fingers and tearing his hand out of his mouth at long last with a final warning look. Klaus takes a victorious breath in, but doesn’t risk speaking when his throat still throbs. “Listen, Klaus was pretty much useless to the Academy _before_ the spell. We all know it: his powers are only tangible to him, he can’t even control the ghosts, and any physical skill he has is negated by the drugs. Now I don’t think he can even walk in a straight line - you all saw him earlier, he’s hardly able to stay upright.”

“But Dad-” Luther chimes in, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“Dad will see it our way,” Five promises, and Klaus knows he’s right. He’s never been anything more than a disappointment to Sir Reginald.

“So… Klaus is like me now?” Vanya asks, a thread of hope in her voice.

“No,” Five said simply. The girl deflated. Seeing this, Five rushed to reassure her: “You’re better than him, Vanya. You’ve got a clear head, you’re still physically competent and you’re smart, something Klaus _never_ was.”

Nobody speaks up in his defense. Klaus doesn’t care. (He isn’t going to cry again, damn it. He refuses.)

“Plus looking… like this,” Five says after a pause, “it’s best that he stays inside. We all know he’s easy, and there are a lot of bad people who’ll take advantage of him, and he’d let them for a few pills.”

Klaus shoves his middle finger right in front of Five’s face. Five ignores him, and the others follow suit.

What follows is less of a brainstorming session and more of a war council. Five, it turns out, has a knack for breaking people down into strengths and weaknesses, and turning their weaknesses into strengths. Luther’s strong and skilled, but he’s better at following orders than giving them, which is probably why he’s Dad’s favourite; Five puts Allison in charge of him, because she’s got both the ability and the intelligence to tell him what to do should something go wrong, and their relationship is strong enough that he’d trust her unconditionally. Diego is a better commander than Luther, but is fairly short-sighted in his plans - good at improvisation and long range attacks; he and Ben are paired, because Ben’s the best strategist amongst them and much prefers being away from the violence as long as possible. Vanya is Five’s second in command, and on actual missions she’ll be coordinating everyone and making sure the mission goes to plan, and Klaus doesn’t miss how she colours with pleasure when he says as much.

Which leaves Klaus, who Five is loath to give any responsibility at all.

“I work best alone,” Five defends, “and if he was added to any of the pairs then they’d be handicapped. His powers aren’t offensive, he’s physically weak and he’s a drug addict, so he couldn't even be a functioning look out.”

 _Fuck you,_ Klaus mouths at him, which is about all he can do, as the others discuss things Klaus could do to contribute, none of them sounding particularly feasible or useful. He expects the insult to get brushed off like it has a thousand times before, but Five pauses and looks at him for a beat.

“Five?” Luther says, noticing his sudden silence. “What is it?”

Five doesn’t respond for a moment, preoccupied by whatever has just popped into his mind. “...I think I have an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gangbang the entire prompt was about finally gets written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I increased the chapter limit because I knew you guys deserved the next part, and I knew that I wasn't anywhere near to finished with this verse yet; hell, at this rate, I may make a series of Klaus pissing off witches and getting fucked by his not-very-nice siblings who love him really, because I am apparently a bag of cats. 
> 
> Special thanks to @harshmorninglight for cheerleading, this chapter wouldn't be out right now if not for you :)

_You want to be helpful, don’t you?_

Allison’s a master of manipulation in every sense of the word; she’s a great little actress, able to cry on cue and make her expression show only blankness when she’s furious and smile to the press like she’s on top of the world after a mission with three broken ribs and a sprained wrist. 

So it makes sense that it’s Allison who eventually convinces him to go along with Five’s plan. He doesn’t think she even has to use a rumour, but he can’t be sure; she could have rumoured him to forget, after all. 

What he does remember is this: Five smirking down at him, and the shiver that ran through Klaus’ whole, immobile body at the sight of it. How he could do nothing but listen as Five spun his web of words, about trust and responsibility and oversight and purpose. It’s a whole lot of nothing, dressed up prettily, and Klaus doesn’t even know what he’s proposing until Diego tells him to speak plainly.

“I’m saying,” Five says, “that we use him.”

Klaus can’t speak. It’s a blessing, because he doesn’t understand for an embarrassingly long time after that. Most of the others catch on quickly - at least, he thinks they do by the way Diego stands bolt upright and starts stuttering, by Allison’s sharp breath in, by Ben’s loud exclamation of _“What?!”_

Luther is as in the dark as Klaus is, but at least has a voice so it falls to him to ask for further clarification: “Use him for what?” Five rolls his eyes, his frustration so very _Five,_ so very _normal,_ that it puts Klaus more at ease despite everything, despite his siblings’ reactions to an otherwise innocuous sentence.

“For pleasure, Luther,” Five snaps, “Look at him, what else is he good for?”

And Luther looks. And looks, and looks, and looks, and soon everyone is looking at him, nobody replying to his increasingly frantic hand gestures or blinks. They’re looking at him, but they’re not really seeing him: they’re seeing the flesh of his thighs, revealed by the riding up of his skirt. They’re seeing the swell of his breasts, the tautness of his waist, the jut of his collarbone, the soft curl of his hair. 

Klaus has never felt so invisible. Klaus has never felt so obscene. 

Every breath is suddenly an invitation, a heaving bosom, a breathy exhale from pretty pink lips. He’s no virgin, hasn’t been since he was fourteen and traded some E for his hands, his mouth, his ass. Those men - they’re- (nothing, they’re a means to an end, a hurdle to jump, and if he just keeps telling himself that one day he might be able to believe it-) they’ve told him what he looks like. What they want to do to him. A few times, it’s been a little too close for comfort when they decide they’ll take what he won’t give. But it’s been a long time since he’s been a scared little boy in too deep. 

Yet here he is again, in shark infested waters. 

 _What else is he good for?_ Five’s words go round and round in his head, and the silence after. A rhetorical question, not meant to be answered, because it was so obvious to all. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

He enters a strange, trancelike state that almost feels like being high, but calmer, sweeter, softer. He hears the words exchanged as if from far away _(Dad won’t allow it- Dad doesn’t have a say-)_ and finds himself staring at the point of Five’s chin, his brother sitting above him still, a warm hand carding through his hair. They’re arguing, all of them, haggling and bartering and agreeing - they’re going to do it on rotation, have a schedule, incentives and punishments and ground rules - and they evidently don’t think they need to involve him at all. They’re probably right, but-

“No,” Klaus barely manages to croak, but they all hear him, falling silent. It hurts, so much, his throat _screams_ , but he says it again. _“No.”_

Then there’s a different challenge - and that challenge is him. He thought, he thought- he doesn’t know what he thought, that when he said no they’d stop? He’s old enough to know better. Has seen enough, done enough, lost enough to know better. Vanya tells him he doesn’t want to be on the outside, that she knows what that’s like. Ben guilts him, about the drugs, the long nights his brother spent watching over him, like those are chips to be paid in. Five talks about loyalty, about the greater good; about give and take and fairness. Diego reminds him about when they were little, when they were Two and Four, a finished set, a well-oiled machine with the keys that fit each others locks. Luther surprises Klaus the most: he says nothing at all, just looks at the floor. 

It’s Allison that convinces him, her voice hypnotic and her every word weighed. It’s Allison that convinces Luther too, he thinks, but Luther has always thought the sun rose and set in her eyes. 

Klaus doesn’t say yes, as such. He just doesn’t say no either. When she releases him from her rumour, he just rubs at his eyes, curls up in a ball and tries to sleep. Bodies pile around him, until he’s hot as a furnace, surrounded on all sides, entwined arms  and legs and chests rising and falling. He dreams they’re newborn pups, blind and innocent.

* * *

He thinks they’ve discussed it without him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or rejected. He can’t be sure, of course, and it’s all too raw and fresh to use his words, even with the bruises on his neck fading - it’s just a hunch, the way they exchange glances in the afternoon lessons. 

The first time Five pins him in training and rubs his nipple through his t-shirt, he lets out a shocked cry that comes out more like a moan. Snickers break out, and Klaus can only thank any higher power listening that Pogo wasn’t in the gym at the time (although maybe it’s not down to any higher power at all, the fact that Vanya had an emergency on the other side of the mansion that needed his immediate attention suddenly seeming suspect). After that, it’s open season. Hands on his arse, pinching his thighs, encircling his waist, fingers in his hair - it’s never hard enough to hurt. It might be better if it was. 

Sometimes, the touches make something pull taut in his lower stomach, makes his thighs wet and his dick perk up in interest. His face burns red and pink, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window - he doesn’t recognise the person looking back, with their wide hips, tiny waist and rosy cheeks. 

The changing rooms have always been segregated, and Klaus has always known which door he was expected to go through by Reginald, even if before now he’s questioned the label of _boy._ But he never let those doubts show too clearly, lest his father know - and yet now, now he falters. Which door do they expect him to go through? Which set of siblings will he face?

“In you go, sweetie!” Mom encourages him towards the boy’s, and where one part of him breathes out a sigh of relief, another tenses up. He pushes the door open, hurries over to his locker where the morning’s fresh borrowed uniform awaits. He toes off his trainers as fast as he can - it was the first time he’d braved changing around the others since the witch, having worn his exercise uniform down to breakfast. Sir Reginald hadn’t been impressed, but it was worth it to not have to do this twice. He thought that maybe, maybe, if he was very fast, it might be okay. They might be preoccupied with changing out of their own sweaty things, or Diego and Luther might get into one of their pissing contests and distract Five and Ben-

Klaus shoved his once-loose exercise sweatpants down to his ankles in one swift motion and stepped out of them, heart in his throat. He moved to pick up his- _the_ skirt from his locker, only to find it empty. For one long moment - one long moment he didn’t have - he stared at the empty space, willing his clothes to reappear. They did not. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blue flash of light. At his sides, his hands curled into fists. Slowly, he turned, already knowing that there would be four pairs of eyes locked onto his every movement. Five smirked at him, bundle of clothes in hand. “Give them back,” he said, trying to sound stronger than he felt. 

His brother shook his head slowly, a mimic of their father when he called Klaus a disappointment. “No,” he said, “I don’t think I will.”

Not thinking, not _thinking,_ Klaus lunges for him. Predictably, Five disappears as soon as Klaus gets within arm’s reach of where he was standing, and Klaus feels heat rising to his cheeks. He spins around, thrumming with frustration and no small amount of fear-turned-fury, to see Five shoving Klaus’ clothes into Ben’s arms before jumping away again. 

“Ben-” He starts towards his youngest brother, and Ben steps back. Klaus freezes. He takes another step, and Ben steps back again, and a small smile - more mischievous than malicious, but a smile all the same - tugs at the edges of his mouth. “Ben,” Klaus snaps, “stop it.”

In response, Ben throws the collection of fabric at Diego. Klaus pounces, but Diego’s just hit a growth spurt and is taller than him, meaning Klaus is forced to hang onto Two’s body to try and get them. If he was less caught up in the chase, he’d realise just how close they are - chest to chest, skin to skin. Just as he thinks he’s about to get it, his fingertips grazing the hem of the skirt after he hooked his legs around Diego’s waist, Diego flicks them away, his aim as supernatural as always to make them fall into Luther’s grip. 

Klaus tries to dismount, but Diego’s newly free hands have taken ahold of the very tops of his thighs and he’s stuck for several moments before his brother has groped his fill. He falls to the ground heavily, get up quickly to see the skirt still with Luther, but his shirt in Five’s hands and his blazer in Ben’s. They toss them in high arcs - Ben to Diego, Luther to Ben, Diego to Five, Five to Luther, Luther to Diego, Ben to Five - leaving Klaus frantically running between them, trying to jump high enough to catch the clothes in his arms. He gets the blazer first, heavy as it is, then the skirt. He makes for the shirt, which Ben is now hiding behind his back, only to drop his recovered bounty when unfeasibly strong arms wrap around his middle and lift him into the air. He becomes aware, in degrees, of just how hot and sweaty and tired he is, and how utterly helpless he is in Luther’s arms. His brother has snapped heavyset, grown men in half like twigs; if he wanted, he could do the same to Klaus.

(But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.)

“I think he looks a little warm,” Five says to Diego and Ben, who seem- excited, anticipatory, expectant. “Don’t you?”

“Are you hot, baby?” Diego asks him, stepping forward, putting his cool, cool hand on Klaus’ cheek. The pet name is unfamiliar, like something you’d call a lover rather than a brother. Despite himself, Klaus leans in to the touch. “Oh yeah, you’re burning up. Let’s get you out of those clothes, huh?”

His sweatshirt is pulled off almost gently over his head, and then his polo. He thinks he’ll get to keep his underwear, for a moment, before Five hooks his thumbs underneath them and slides them down his legs. Luther has him around the waist, but his arms are free, so he tries to reach down to cover- anything. Anything he can reach. 

Five smacks his hands away, but like before, it’s not rough. Just a warning, he thinks, looking into his brother’s dark, satisfied eyes. 

“-so fuckin’ pretty,” Diego’s saying, rapt, his cold palms across his shoulders, wrists, waist, hips, before finally resting on his breasts. The shock of the cold on his nipples makes Klaus gasp, and wriggle. Diego begins to knead them in his hands, something that Klaus wishes didn’t feel so good. “God, yeah, that’s right, that’s right honey-”

Luther, ever keen to outdo Diego, lowers Klaus until his feet are on the floor again and he’s supporting his own weight. It’s not like Klaus can run from them, with Five there to drag him back; it’s not like Klaus can go anywhere, completely naked. Then One’s exploring Klaus’ backside, his shoulder blades, the dip of his back, the peachy roundness of his bottom. Klaus reaches out, and his hand finds a locker to lean on, the sheer amount of sensation amplified by the way Five and Ben are both just _watching._

Five murmurs something in Ben’s ear, and Ben shakes his head quickly, and whispers something back. Klaus might have been able to hear their conversation if Diego wasn’t saying such appreciative, filthy things. Five comes over, whilst Ben hangs back. He reaches up, and traces Klaus’ lips with his thumb. “You really are made for this,” he says, “aren’t you?”

The words trigger something in Klaus, something deep and primal, and he starts trying to break out of Luther and Diego’s hold, tearing his face away from Five’s outstretched hand. A growl from behind him is all the warning he gets before the world turns upside down and he’s thrown over Luther’s shoulder, ass in the air. He pants, completely disoriented. 

“Did we say you could move?” Diego snaps, walking around to look into Klaus’ wide, frightened eyes. His head thumps as all the blood rushes in. “Huh? Did it look like we were done?”

Klaus remembers, all at once, just how many ghosts follow Diego. Luther. Five. Ben. Just how many people his brothers have killed, just how many souls haunt their house. Just what these boys are capable of. Just whose mercy he’s at. 

Instead of responding, Klaus struggles with all he has, but Luther is so strong that it feels like he’s a fish wriggling on a steel hook. A smack lands on his ass, and he stills on instinct. His left buttock stings. 

“I _said,_ did it look like we were done?” 

Klaus shakes his head from side to side, and it just makes him dizzier. “N-no,” he croaks, “no.”

“Are you gonna be good for us?” Is the next question, and Klaus nods his head quickly. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good-”

Luther lays him on his back without ceremony, and Klaus’ hands to straight to his forehead as the blood rushes back to the rest of his body. He groans, boneless and without resistance, on the spotless tiled floor. Then there’s hands on him again, so many hands- his head hurts, so he keeps his eyes shut, tries to go somewhere else but it’s impossible, every new caress feeling like a brand. 

It’s Five who first sticks his fingers inside of Klaus. Klaus lets out a low, keening sound, his mouth dropping open at the sensation and the awareness of just how much wetness his traitorous body is coating Five’s digits with. 

“You’re so wet,” Five groans, praise tripping from his lips more easily in this moment than it ever has before in his life, “so wet, so warm.”

Five is clumsy, at first, but quickly finds his rhythm, slipping in a second finger and then a third - the stretch isn’t pleasant, at least not at first, but then Five’s fingertips brush against something inside of Klaus that sends a shot of hot pleasure right down to his toes. While Five is pushing into him, deeper and further with every thrust, Diego’s attached himself to Klaus’ neck, licking and biting and sucking, his tongue hot and firm as it explores his skin. Luther takes his mouth, tells Klaus he’s being good, so good, as he eases the tip of his cock - he’s easily the biggest of the five of them, and Klaus doesn’t think it’ll at fit - in between Klaus’ lips. 

“Careful,” he warns Klaus, a gentle hold on his hair a warning not to get rough, not to bite. Easier said than done whilst Five’s fingers are thrusting in and out so excruciatingly well, whilst across the room Ben has taken himself in hand, whilst Diego’s teeth are leaving red marks across his flesh. But still, he tries - he’s sucked cocks before, although never quite like this, and he knows what to do; cover his teeth, use his tongue, hollow his cheeks. Luther tastes salty and musky, and the thatch of his pubic hair tickles the end of Klaus’ nose. He’s just getting used to the length and width of him when Five’s fingers are replaced, without warning, by his cock. 

Klaus can’t help but cry out, his exclamation wordless, vibrating around Luther’s dick. Number One groans, and pushes deeper - Klaus’ hands scrabble around for purchase on the tiled floor as his throat is violated, as he swears he can feel something in his gut stretching, tearing, breaking, as Diego bites down on his nipple as if to remind him that he’s here too, like he could forget. It’s too much, it’s so much, he doesn’t think people were meant to feel _this much-_  

Luther unloads down his throat, and Klaus wants to spit but there’s a hand over his mouth and it tastes so _bad_ and it’s better to get it over with, so he swallows and wriggles at the taste, at the thump-thump-thump of Five’s cock until he too is coming, and Diego’s stroking himself over Klaus’ chest until he’s filthy, inside and out. 

Klaus goes to push himself off the floor, to hobble towards the showers with the intention not to come out until he’s scrubbed himself red-raw, but Diego’s hand latches around his ankle. He looks up, and sees his brother smirking. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Diego asks, his eyes sparkling with eagerness. 

Klaus doesn’t get the chance to respond, because then Five’s cock is pushing insistently at his lips, and it all begins anew.

* * *

At lunch, Klaus can barely sit. Every few seconds he shifts, and he’s constantly aware of his rear against the hard wooden seats. There’s no such thing as a comfortable position, but he keeps on trying to find one anyway.

Vanya and Allison shoot the boys knowing looks, and all four of them look very pleased with themselves indeed, even Ben, who hadn’t physically touched Klaus but who had been watching hungrily and later suggesting new ideas and positions to his brothers, _just_ when Klaus had thought it might be over. He showered thrice when they were finally done with him, and he still thinks there must be some obvious clue to what went down that he missed - because everyone is _looking_ at him, in a way that makes him feel like they want to eat him whole.

For once, Klaus is grateful for Dad’s rules about absolute silence at mealtimes. He wants to put off whatever interrogation is coming next for as long as possible. But dinner ends, no matter how slowly he eats, and he prepares for another session of god-knows-what. 

But nothing happens. 

He makes it to his bedroom unmolested, and not looking a gift horse in the mouth, he shuts the door and shoves a chair under the handle, because they don’t have locks. Technically Five will still be able to jump in if he really wants to, but Klaus sure as hell isn’t going to make it easy for him. 

He wants to say that he thought seriously about what had happened, how to address it, how to express to his siblings that he wasn’t really on board and he hadn’t been comfortable and all that jazz - but he’s so tired. So tired. He feels like he hasn’t slept for days, and in the corners of his vision he can see shades beginning to form into humanoid shapes. Soon, they’ll start screaming. 

Usually at this point, Klaus would take a pill. But he can’t. But he wants to. But he has to. But he’s got to get the witch to change him back so this’ll all be over, so the others will stop looking at him like he’s a piece of meat, so he can walk in a straight line without wobbling and wear his own clothes again (and Klaus had not expected to miss his boring-ass shorts as much as he does). 

He wants a fucking hit. He needs a hit. 

He remembers Five snorting in amusement the day before at the concept of Klaus getting sober. Allison’s doubt and Ben’s gentle words that cut deeper than any of Diego’s knives. 

Klaus punches himself on the arm once, twice, before throwing himself on the bed and stuffing his head under the pillow. 

He’ll show them. 

* * *

Next thing he knows, there’s a hurried series of knocks on the door that drags him out of his unconsciousness. He didn’t close the curtains before he fell asleep, so there’s still a weak amber light coming from the streetlight across the street. 

“Who ‘izzit?” He calls out, mouth feeling like something died in it. In the corner, there’s a little girl with half a face, who doesn’t have a mouth to cry with. Small mercies.

“Allison!” his sister’s voice responds in a conspiratorial whisper, “Open up!”

“Fuck off!” he says, raising his voice to ensure she gets the message through the closed door. “Klaus isn’t here, leave a message!”

The floorboards outside creak, and the light streaming in under the doorway is interrupted by shadows. _“I heard a rumour you opened the door,”_ he hears, and he’s swearing as he drags himself out of bed and removes the chair. In defiance, he opens the door a crack - it’s still open, and satisfies the terms of the rumour. 

Allison and Vanya stand on the other side of the door, expectant. Allison raises an eyebrow at the couple of inches he’s opened the door, before rolling her eyes and pushing it open the rest of the way, walking in like she owns the place, Vanya hurrying in behind. 

“Oh, please, come in,” he says in a flat voice. 

Ignoring him, Allison flicks on the overhead light, and Klaus hisses at the sudden brightness. “Have you been sitting in the dark? That’s not good for your eyes, Klaus.”

“I was _sleeping_ ,” he retorts, but he knows the strength of it is compromised because he can’t bring himself to look up from his feet. 

A man - one of the very first bank robbers the Academy killed, skewered on Diego’s knives - starts yelling from down the hallway; the usual stuff, how he’ll have his revenge, kill them all, et cetera. His voice is distant enough to tune out, so Klaus guesses he’s shouting at Diego in his room, who thankfully can’t hear him and never will be able to. 

“-hey, listen to me,” Allison says, suddenly, but when Klaus finally looks up at her he realises from her expression she was probably talking for a while. 

“Sorry,” he says, out of habit more than anything. “Can you just leave me alone? I need to- to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Allison answers promptly, “We know what you do when you’re alone.”

 _“I’m_ _not high.”_ Klaus grits out, insulted. 

Vanya, who has been silent up until that moment, apparently happy to let Allison do the talking, raises her eyebrows in clear scepticism. “What did Allison just say then?”

“We know what you do when you’re alone,” Klaus parrots, which he knows wasn’t what she meant, but he’s just so sick of this. “Believe me or not, I don’t care-” Lie. Possibly the biggest lie he’s ever told. “-I just want to go back to sleep.”

“It’s not even eight o’clock,” Allison told him dryly. 

“I’ve had a _very_ stressful day,” Klaus snapped, and immediately regretted it at the way her expression hardened in response to his harsh tone. 

 _“I heard a rumour you stopped talking,”_ Allison says, and Klaus automatically goes to protest only to open his mouth and have nothing come out. He glares at her, and she and Vanya glare right back, the heat in their gazes making him want to shrink back, but what little remains of his tattered pride won’t let him. “Much better,” she said with a smile, before kicking the door shut. 

He looks at Vanya - Vanya won’t let her do this to him, surely, not sweet Vanya who cried when they stepped on ants and never complained when Klaus borrowed her stuff without asking. But Vanya looks almost giddy, her eyes full of excitement.

“I told you it’d be easy,” Allison says to their younger sister, before turning back to Klaus. “Now, are you going to be good?”

It’s not what Diego said earlier, not quite, but it’s close enough to get Klaus’ heart hammering like a jackknife in his chest. _Are you gonna be good for us?_

And all at once Klaus knows exactly why his sisters are here.

All logic flies away, washed away by a rising panic that has Klaus lunging for the door, no matter how hopeless it is. He’s got his hand round the doorknob when Allison says, not even sounding worried, _“I heard a rumour you couldn’t leave the room.”_

He tries anyway, and his legs just stop working when he tries to step over the threshold. He can’t speak, but he can still sob, and the noise that comes out of his throat sounds more animal than human. 

“Shh, shh,” Allison says, turning him around firmly and wiping at his eyes as he battles uselessly to keep his expression from crumbling. “This is what we agreed, remember?”

 _No,_ he wants to scream, but she’s right. She’s right. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either, and he knew what that meant. He sobs again, and Allison leads him back to his unmade bed, still warm from his body lying there for a few hours. Vanya sits there, waiting, and pulls him into a hug. To his embarrassment, he can feel his breasts, the large, unwieldy things that they are, squashing against his sister’s flatter chest. 

“It’s okay,” his littlest sister hushes him, her arms soft in a way that none of theirs have ever been, with their intensive physical conditioning. They’re not unlike Mom’s, but not as stiff, because no matter what Mom looks like, she’s still a robot deep down with none of a human being’s inherent tenderness and doughy flesh. 

His sobs are losing their urgency and frequency as Allison unbuttons the side of his skirt. He shudders, but doesn’t make her stop. He knows she can just rumour him still, and Vanya’s arms are still around him, comforting and warm. 

“Oh, the boys did a real number on you, didn’t they?” Allison says, sounding almost sympathetic as she looks at the bruises and red-raw flesh of his backside. Klaus sniffles as she drags his underwear down his legs, before guiding him to step out of them until he’s bare from the waist down. She pulls his face out of Vanya’s shoulder, and says “Arms up!” in almost exactly the same tone of voice Mom used to when they were still too little to dress themselves. He obeys, bottom lip trembling. 

And then he’s bare. 

Miserably, he hunches over, covering his tits with his arms. “Oh, come on Klaus,” Vanya says gently, “It’s not anything we haven’t seen before. Look-” And then, in a move that Klaus would never have anticipated in a hundred years, shy Vanya who he can’t remember so much as raising her voice before in seventeen years, begins unbuttoning her blouse. He looks away quickly, more embarrassed now than he was even in the boy’s locker room - Dad’s always had strict rules about changing, even when they were too young to understand why. He’s never seen either of his sisters naked, ever, and the fact that he’s even in the same room as a topless Vanya is making alarm bells ring in his ears.

“Klaus,” Vanya says his name quietly, and takes his hand. He still doesn’t look at her, at least not until she guides his palm to an impossibly soft hill of flesh. On instinct, his gaze skitters over, and he sees what he’s touching. They’re smaller than the ones the witch gave him, and her nipples are hard like Mom’s pearls. He tries to pull his hand away, but she holds on, and he can do nothing but tremble. 

“See?” Allison says, after having been entirely silent for the entire exchange, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He glares at her, because that’s _bullshit,_ but finds his look losing strength when he sees that she too his bare from the waist up. Her breasts are bigger than their sister’s, and the same coffee colour as the rest of her skin, her nipples dark and dusky where Vanya’s (and Klaus’ own) are the colour of rose petals. He feels his cock begin to perk up in interest.

He knows his entire face must be red as he stands up sharply, and walks over to the corner opposite to where the girl with half a face is standing, closing his eyes and trying to go far away. Out the corner of his eye, he can see the jumper across the road start falling again, looping as he always does through his last moments whenever Klaus is sober enough to see him. 

Nails dig into the flesh of his arse, and he lets out a cry of shock and pain. “Don’t you think we’re pretty?” Allison breathes in his ear. “Don’t you want to touch us as much as we want to touch you?”

Klaus says nothing, because he can’t, because even if he could he could never, ever admit anything to his sisters. After a few moments of silence, Allison’s lips are at the shell of his ear: _“I heard a rumour that you want us.”_ He shudders, and doesn’t move, because the rumour is already true, and if he turned around Allison would see the evidence for herself. There’s a smile in Allison’s voice when she speaks again, because she’s come to the same conclusion. _“I heard a rumour that you let us touch you. I heard a rumour that you wanted to please us more than anything. I heard a rumour that you enjoy everything we do to you.”_

There’s a certain freedom that comes with losing your free will. Klaus wonders, as he turns around and falls to his knees in front of his elder sister in a way that can only be described as eager, if deep down this is what he wanted in the first place. 

“Good boy,” Allison praises, leading him back to the bed, her eyes dark with want as Vanya massages herself between her legs, her small breasts trembling as she rocks backwards and forwards. “Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt asked for Klaus/The Hargreeves Brothers (so Luther, Diego, Five and Ben) but I've decided to include the girls too - I'm open for requests/suggestions for the second, smuttier chapter, as chapter one was really just setting the scene and the tone.


End file.
